One Lucky Cowboy (27 page)

   They awoke the next morning in bed together, snuggled up in each other's arms wearing nothing but birthday suits and severe headaches, with the memory of proving that Slade could wear a hat in a most conspicuous place and that Jane could make love with his boots on her tiny feet.

   She awoke humming "Don't Call Him a Cowboy."

   Slade tried to smile but it hurt too badly.

   "I'm going to the shower. When I come out I don't want to hear a word," she whispered.

   "Don't worry, neither do I," he said.

IT WAS FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILES FROM BATON ROUGE to Beau and Milli's ranch southwest of Ardmore. Slade had every intention of unloading Jane that night. He could make it in nine hours, even allowing time to stop for food and potty breaks. But he hadn't counted on hangovers and headaches. He kept hoping she'd set up a whining moan, wanting to stop so she could sleep off the hangover. He couldn't complain—not after the whining accusation he'd made the night before. She didn't and he made it to Shreveport before he took an exit advertising Economy Inn. To the devil with waiting for her to want to stop; he was driving. She was simply sitting there.

   "Thank God," she muttered. She would have curled up in a ball beside a farm pond and used a dried-up cow patty for a pillow just to get out of the truck. The wheels turning on the highway sounded like a brass band marching through her head. Every time Slade sighed she wanted to slap him for making so much noise. She figured he was stopping for a cup of coffee or a potty break. A few minutes inside the bathroom at a McDonalds would be heaven. She might sit on the toilet for an hour, lean her head against the cold steel of the stall, and sleep.

   "Did you say something?" he asked.

   She shook her head and even that hurt.

   "Two rooms or one?" he asked when he stopped under the hotel awning.

   "Two," she answered.

   She could have kissed him but she'd already proven where that could and would lead. And she damn sure didn't want a drink to celebrate having her own bedroom.

   Early birds that they were, he was able to get them ground-floor rooms with outside entrances. Side by side with a connecting door, which he had no intention of opening. He tossed a couple of room keys toward her when he opened the truck door.

   "We got two right around the corner toward the back," he said.

   She didn't care where they were as long as the ice machine wasn't close enough that she could hear it dumping every few minutes. A bed with clean sheets and dark drapes were the only things she required.

   He grabbed his suitcase and she reached for her duffel bag at the same time. Their fingertips touched and sparks flew but neither of them even looked up. There would be time enough to think about the future once the present pain was gone.

   There was plenty of hot water and she stood under it for a long time. She wrapped a white towel around her body, brushed her teeth, and turned back the bed. The sheets were crisp and cool, the air conditioner turned down as far as it would go, and she wallowed for about thirty seconds before she looked at the digital clock beside the bed. It was three minutes past three p.m. when she shut her eyes.

   She felt a presence, slowly opened one eye, and checked the clock. Six forty-five. She popped both eyes open to see Slade sitting on the bed right beside hers. He was a dead man. She'd only had a three-hour nap. No way was she ready to go again. He could go find something to do and let her sleep some more.

   "Hungry?" he asked.

   She put a pillow over her head and rolled away from him. "Still sleepy. Go away."

   "You've been sleeping almost seventeen hours."

   She sat straight up and her stomach set up a growling howl that could have been heard halfway to Georgia.

   "You're lying to me just to get me awake," she said. Her head was free of pain. She was hungry. Was it really morning? She grabbed the remote control and turned on the television to find the morning news complete with a weather report for Shreveport. Hot and dry. Surprise!

   "Sounds like you are hungry. Get dressed while I check out and we'll find a Denny's. I could eat a Grand Slam breakfast this morning," Slade said.

   Jane was beautiful with her hair all tousled and it was cute the way she kept the sheet tucked around her when she sat up. Evidently when he wasn't around she slept in the nude just like he did.

   "Give me ten minutes to brush my teeth and get my hair in a ponytail," she said.

   He didn't move.

   "Get out of here. I'm starving."

   "I've seen you naked. Go ahead. Besides I've already checked out. My stuff is in the truck."

   "You are a pig from hell," she said.

   "We've already established that. I think it was before I showed you who could drink the most."

"I outdid you, cowboy. You fell asleep before I did."

   "That's only because you wore me out. So crawl your ass out of bed and get dressed. I'm sittin' right here. It's my prize for winning."

   "You did not win," she argued.

   "Sure I did. I woke up before you did, which means it didn't take me as long to get over the drunk, so that makes me the winner."

   She drew her brows down into a fine line above her squinty eyes. One swift toss of the covers landed them over his head and she was in the bathroom with her duffel bag in her hands before he fought his way out of them.

   "You are the pig from hell," he shouted.

   "Find your own lines. That one is mine. I'm layin' claim to it and you can't use it the rest of the time we are together," she yelled from the other side of the door.

   They found a Denny's on their way out of town and both ordered the Lumberjack Slam, which consisted of pancakes, sausage, bacon, ham, eggs, grits, and biscuits. Slade decided on hash browns instead of grits and snarled when she stirred over easy fried eggs into her grits.

   "That's as disgusting as sugar and pepper on buttered biscuits," he said.

   "When the waitress comes by, ask her for half a dozen more biscuits. Nothing like chasin' beer with Jack to bring on the hunger, and I'd forgotten about pepper biscuits."

   "Or sleeping sixteen hours. How do you stay so slim?"

   "It makes me poor to carry it around. That's what my grandmother told me when I was a little girl. I never did look like anything but a beanpole. When the other girls got all fluffy and pretty, I looked like a boy in a skirt. It sure was frustrating."

   "You must have one high metabolism," he said.

   "Basically, I like food and I work hard."

   The waitress came by to refill their coffee cups and Jane asked for six more biscuits and another bowl of grits.

   "And you sir?" The waitress turned her charm on Slade.

   "Just a large cup of coffee to go."

   "You ever look at the nutrition guides for a breakfast like this?" Jane asked.

   "It would give me a heart attack. Don't tell me."

   "Suffice it to say that there's two hundred percent of cholesterol right here even before she brings my biscuits. There's more than a thousand calories with another thousand tacked on if I eat all six biscuits and don't share with you, enough salt to plug your veins and arteries like an old man, and you don't even want to get me started on the fat grams."

   "Then why do you eat it? Why not a cup of yogurt and dry toast?" he asked.

   "Because I like it and the women in my family don't run to fat. Not like Kristy or Elaine."

   "Are you trying to start a fight? Here I was being nice and you are starting a jealous fight."

   "I'm not jealous. I'm stating fact."

   "No ma'am, you are jealous and trying to get me to say how they look without clothes. Sorry. I don't kiss and tell. When we get back to Ringgold I won't tell them how you look, either, so don't worry about them looking at you with pity."

   "You are a…"

   "…pig from hell. Find something new and fresh. That one is getting old," he grinned.

   She buttered two of the new biscuits the waitress set before them and proceeded to sugar and pepper them. He buttered two and filled them with strawberry jam.

   
Just goes to prove how different we are,
she thought.
He eats his plain old strawberry jam and I have some
thing exotic and different. I'm not jealous. I was just
making a comment and I don't give a rat's ass what
those two women look like naked. Why would I? I don't
have to compare me to them. I'm going home in one
week and never looking back.

   By eight thirty they were back in the truck headed north to Texarkana. It was hard for Slade to believe that a week ago they'd spent their first night in that town and now they'd come full circle and found themselves headed there again. Only this time, they'd bypass it and keep driving northwest to Beau's ranch, the Bar M. He had called Nellie the night before and she'd told him in no uncertain terms he was to stay on the ranch with Jane. She'd get in touch with Beau and Milli to tell them they were about to have a week's worth of company. She was sure that they'd be glad for the help during the busy season. Jane could help Milli and Rosa cook for the crew and Slade could help Beau take care of the hay and cattle. Everything on the Double L was under control. She'd see him the Sunday after Jane's birthday. He could take her to Mississippi on Saturday, leave her at her ranch, and come on home on Sunday. She was a big girl. She could take care of her own business on Monday, and Slade would have his job finished.

   
If she's such a big girl, why in the hell am I in this
truck with her headed toward the Bar M for a week?
he argued with the memory of his grandmother's voice.
I
got my two cents in on the phone too, but it was only a
token argument because down deep inside I don't want
to leave her just yet. Give me a week to convince myself
I don't even like her and it'll be a whole lot easier.

   "Setting the record straight: I didn't have sex with Elaine or Kristy. The kids were always in the way with Kristy and I just plain didn't like Elaine," he said.

   Jane stiffened her mouth to keep from smiling. "Why are you setting the record straight? What does it matter?"

   "It probably doesn't but I don't want you thinkin' I'm a whoremonger."

   "I didn't sleep with John, either, just for the record."

   "But you were about to marry him," Slade said.

   "And he said that we should wait so it would be special. I had no idea that I was waiting and he was sleeping with Ramona."

   "You didn't have to tell me that."

   "Same back at you."

   A ring tone went off in the console beside them. He could have gladly tossed the cell phone out the window. For the first time they'd been about to carry on a conver sation that didn't start and end with bickering and it felt right. She picked up the phone, flipped it open, and handed it to him.

   "Hello," he snapped. "I see."

   A long pause. Slade's brows drew down in a frown.

   "We were on the way to my cousin's ranch in southern Oklahoma."

Another one. He looked bewildered.

"How old are they?"

A short pause. Slade smiled.

"That's a bit amusing. You'll understand later."

He snapped the phone shut and dropped it.

"How old are who and what's funny?" she asked.

   "John Farris is an alias. Of course, you'd probably figured that out. He injured an FBI agent this morning with a fork. The man is in surgery and they expect him to live but he's lost a lot of blood. John left a print on the fork before he escaped. Turns out he was in the Air Force, special ops, went rogue and they booted him out. He's been trained in combat and to kill. Nice thought, ain't it?"

   Cold chills raced up and down her spine like kids playing chase on a hot summer day. "He's loose?"

   "He is. Agent August has assigned two agents to stay at the Double L just in case he shows up there with intentions of hurting Granny or Ellen. They'll be living there in the house for a week."

   She giggled. "How old are they?"

   "Both retired. This is just a favor to Agent August. Seems the two of them go to a working ranch once a year for their vacation. Have been doing it for years. Funny, ain't it?"

   She couldn't contain the laughter. It bounced around in the truck for a few minutes then, as if on cue, she went deadly silent. "He'll come after me. What are we going to do? I can't put Beau and Milli in danger."

   "Don't suppose we can. It's your day to pick. Where do you want to go?"

   "Home, but that's not possible."

   The phone rang again and he answered it, saying "Okay" several times before he hung up again.

   "That's the last time we use that phone, since anyone can trace calls made from it. The agents are already at the ranch posing as hired hands. Milli is picking us up in Texarkana. That's all I know right now."

   "Milli is picking us up? Why would she drive to Texarkana to pick us up there?" Jane asked.

   "She owns her own plane. She flies back and forth to west Texas all the time. I expect she's going to take us somewhere."

   "This gets weirder every minute. How far is it?"

   "An hour. There's a Luckadeau ranch south of town. She'll be waiting. I guess we leave it in the hands of the FBI now. You aren't bait anymore, but you are on the run until they catch him. And he won't be talking his way out of the situation when they do. Not when he tried to murder an agent. They'll get him and you'll be safe," he said.